It Doesn't Have to Be
by General Kitty Girl
Summary: From the moment his Prime Minister tasked him with consummating the special relationship until Alfred's confession, Arthur hadn't realized that he had been bitterly treating this as just another business venture. He had only taken into account his own ire over being bartered like some courtesan to an infuriating idiot like Alfred Jones, and not what Alfred would be feeling...
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** USUK

**Chapter One Characters:**

-America/ Alfred F. Jones

-England/ Arthur Kirkland

**~It Doesn't Have to Be~**

January 10th, 1946. It was the day of the first General Assembly; a conference for the peace seeking states of the world to gather together and discuss issues of the times and look toward securing the future. That was the day, in London, that one such solution was purposed and accepted in vigor between the two leaders of Great Britain and the United States of America: the '_special relationship_' between them should be solidified and their union made resolute before the world.

The announcement would be made before the first ever meeting of the United Nations that coming October, which was the reason Britain's Prime Minister had cleared Arthur's schedule and booked a flight for him to New York not even a week after the assembly's conclusion.

His orders? Get busy.

All of this had lead to the current awkward situation. Arthur was sitting with his arms and legs crossed on a couch in a high-rise luxury apartment overlooking Long Island. His expression was tight and mute while…his _companion_ sitting parallel to him looked ready to have a bladder-rupturing episode.

The two had been in this tense state since Alfred had retrieved Arthur from the airport earlier that afternoon. The only real change had been on the drive to the apartment, which had been a jittery one-sided conversation on Alfred's part until Arthur told him that if he heard about the Detroit Lions and their so-called "football" one more time he was changing his national animal and beating Alfred to death with the first discarded effigy he found.

Needless to say, this did not set the mood for what they were supposed to be doing.

His complexion flushed, his leg bouncing up and down like it was trying to run away from him, and his hands constantly going from tightly linked together to grabbing at every article of clothing he wore, Alfred finally broke the silence – and sadly his voice.

"Do you –" he squawked, stopping to clear his throat so he didn't sound so much like a pubescent school boy pleading with his balls to drop so he could ask the school cheerleading captain out on a date. "D-do you want…something to eat?"

Arthur's expression never changed and he didn't move. "No, thank you. I'm feeling a tad nauseous for that."

"Oh!" Alfred piped up, trying to draw strength from the possibility of a task. "I have some antacid for that!"

Arthur just stared at him and after a while, Alfred seemed to get the point and deflated back into nervous misery.

"Um. Do you…want help unpacking?"

"No." He said flatly then sighed and decided to stop being too much of a prick; after all, this wasn't Alfred's fault. "No, thank you."

The American gave a bit of a smile, but still looked like he'd eaten something equivocal to a gastrointestinal explosive device and kept squirming all over his seat.

_Oh, for God's sake_.

"I'm rather tired so, if we could just make this quick – "

"Right!" Alfred suddenly cut him off (a little too loudly, Arthur might add) and bounced off the couch like one of the springs had shot up his ass. "You've had a long flight and are probably ready to drop dead – "

More than Alfred knew.

"So, I'll just go take a shower and you can do…uh….whatever it is…you…do before bed."

Again, all Arthur could do was give him a look, as Alfred seemed to flush cherry red from head to toe (Arthur thought Nantucket might have glinted crimson) and darted off to the bathroom.

By the time Alfred returned from the longest shower in history, Arthur had already tucked himself into the only bed in the room and completely obscured himself with the comforter. He could sense Alfred approaching the bed with uncertainty (eventually dashing out of the room for a self-pep talk before returning) before working up the courage to crawl beneath the covers and inelegantly scoot just an arm's length away from him.

Arthur kept his back to Alfred, as the man frustratingly continued to wrestle with indecision. When Arthur could take it no more, he rolled over and yanked a very startled Alfred to him.

"If you're going to do it, then do it. Acting like a virgin husband on his wedding night is only dragging this ridiculous burden out and irritating me," he hissed and stared the wide-eyed blond down. "Get this over with or get out."

Alfred looked cornered and began trembling. Perhaps it should have invoked some kind of sympathy but Arthur just didn't have the patience for it. It wasn't until Alfred swallowed and finally spoke that he felt something other than insurmountable annoyance.

"But that's what I am right now. I've never done this before and I never wanted it to happen this way…"

The moment seemed paused for Arthur as the words sunk in, making his hard expression soften a little in lieu of this most certainly impossible information. Arthur had known Alfred nearly the man's entire life and knew when he was lying; but, much to his distress, he couldn't find any falsehood now. There wasn't a single tell to be had and the raw anguish on Alfred's face was undeniable.

Alfred was telling the truth.

"You've never once done this…with anyone?"

Alfred flushed and looked down, "I know it's something most of you older guys see as '_just business_' but…I see it as something special." Knowing Arthur was likely going to judge him on it, Alfred seemed to find the will to defend himself and bit out. "I don't care how human that sounds, it's what I wanted and still do."

In the silence that followed, Alfred cautiously lifted his eyes and found Arthur still appearing confounded in the wake of this revelation. As this was likely to be his only opportunity to get it off his chest, Alfred dropped all of his characteristic self-assuredness and pleaded, "This doesn't have to be tonight, right? …Please?"

Arthur still couldn't find his words and woodenly nodded, watching Alfred's face light up with gratitude as he thanked and hugged him tightly. The younger continued holding him until, eventually, he fell asleep with his limbs tangled in his companion's.

Rest did not come so easily for Arthur, who remained awake and staring at the crown of golden hair brushing his face. From the moment his Prime Minister tasked him with consummating the special relationship until Alfred's confession, Arthur hadn't realized that he had been bitterly treating this as just another business venture. He had only taken into account his own ire over being bartered like some courtesan to an infuriating idiot like Alfred Jones, and not that Alfred would be feeling incredible distress of his own. This hadn't been the first time Arthur had been charged with solidifying an alliance by these means…but Alfred…

He found himself squeezing Alfred a little tighter and resting his cheek atop the other's head. They had time to do this right and would, regardless of the pressure they would both be enduring from the top. This was suppose to be a special relationship after all…and he was determined that, for both of their sakes, it would be.

* * *

><p><em>Notes from the Author<em>:

;v;/ Hello all and welcome back to my archives. I have been in a horrid writing rut again and tried getting some momentum going by writing another drabble for the 365 Days of USUK project. After the positive feedback from readers of the project, I decided that I may expand on this story in time. I hope you all have enjoyed and see potential with it! Thank you all for reading and all my best, darlin's~

Sincerely,

_General Kitty Girl_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two Characters:**

-America/ Alfred F. Jones

-England/ Arthur Kirkland

**~It Doesn't Have to Be~**

_II_

The following morning consisted of quiet greetings, keeping distance to an arm's length or opposite rooms, and breakfast in silence. There wasn't the same kind of sourness in the atmosphere, but a more cautionary circling of quick glances and noncommittal politeness. Neither of them was sure how to approach their situation after the confessions on their first "marital night", but Alfred emanated timid optimism while Arthur was more distant and analytic.

Alfred went to answer a knock at the door, as Arthur continued nursing his tea. The exchange was hushed, but Alfred's pale and nervous demeanor when he returned told him all he needed to know.

"Was that your official or mine come to check up on how the bedding went?"

Alfred flushed deeply and let his eyes wonder anywhere but in Arthur's direction. "Mine…He was sent to see if I needed any more condoms than the box they gave to me last night."

The Brit couldn't help but chortle and sink further into his chair, as he sipped more tea. "I've never seen the need for condoms between nations. We cannot breed nor can we contract diseases; besides, the point is to seed your bed partner. It strengthens the bond."

Alfred's ears were practically flaming red, as he cleared his throat and turned away to pour another cup of coffee. "Ah, so, anything else I should…know about the mechanics of what we're supposed to do?"

To be perfectly honest, Arthur really hated having this discussion with anyone…let alone the boy he had once raised and then suffered several wars with. But he knew Alfred was terribly ignorant of so many things that were partially his fault for not having taught sooner. He sighed and chalked it up as karma.

"Governments marrying their national avatars together is both a symbolic gesture of union and an organic one. By sharing things such as blood, semen, saliva, vaginal secretions –"

"You could just say _bodily fluids_ without going into detail," Alfred bit in with a deep blush painting his very disquieted face.

"Forgive me," Arthur said dismissively, "I shall try to keep this to the children's version."

In spite of the look his comment earned, Arthur crossed his arms and legs and continued, "By sharing everything from each other's presence to actual…things containing DNA, elements such as language, culture, ideologies, and even political influences can be shared more efficiently between nations. Consider the marrying of nations like a conduit with which said nations, or rather governments, can more easily imprint on the other."

Their eyes met and Arthur saw the apprehension, "Was that easier to understand?"

"Don't patronize me," Alfred returned and crossed his arm over his chest defensively, as he leaned stiffly against the counter and tried to casually drink his coffee "I take it this isn't the first time you've been…married to someone else."

Arthur put on a blasé demeanor and much to the Brit's annoyance Alfred suspicion caught on. "My fair share. Though less common today, it was a very customary practice in other eras."

"To whom were you married and under what circumstances?" Alfred pressed and watched the other's every twitch with rapt attention.

Arthur didn't appreciate it at all and the bristle was clear in his voice, "Don't over step yourself, boy. Marriage doesn't mean our life stories become property of the other. If anything, this is to be treated as temporary an arrangement as all _other_ marriages between nations are."

It seemed to back the American off a bit, but Arthur knew the seeds of interest were planted and, like weeds, would continue to grow.

Intrusive brat.

"Alright, then…what do you consider to have been the…circumstances of our arrangement?"

Though it was much too close to his original question, Arthur decided this one was worth answering and quelling any doubts. "The result of a blank check given to your government in exchange for aid in the war. For the tremendous financial debt my country accrued, I have been willfully given as collateral to ensure that debt is paid," he said and the bitterness thickly laced his voice. "Not even a war trophy…but a gilded courtesan."

He didn't want to see whatever look Alfred might have had on his face, as it would do nothing to sooth the wound. In the past, he had fought such arrangements to the literal death, forcing Francis to behead him before their marriage after Hastings and the Prussian government to drug him before his marriage with Gilbert could be consummated without fear of the Prussian being maimed. The Vikings and Saxons of old had accosted him, and his once Roman sovereign had promised him as a peace token to his enemies (though they never accepted, as they did not see profit in such a weak little island). His only remotely pleasant marriage to Leocàdia, Portugal, had been born from a mutual hatred of France and Spain, and a declaration that they would rather belong to each other than be sold as bed warmers to other nations. In every case, he had had some sort of say or chance to protest before the deeds were done…

But this time, he hadn't so much as had an opportunity to pen a letter.

The sound of Alfred crossing the kitchen brought him back to the present and he stood quickly, scrapping the chair over the floor in the process, and threw his mug so hard into the sink, it shattered. The resounding silence amplified the agonizing pounding of his heart in his head, but it was preferable to the sounds of pity he otherwise might have had to endure.

"Get your coat," he ground out without turning back to face his so-appointed husband. "If I must suffer this indignity then I will suffer it beyond this blasted hotel, where legislators see fit to check up on the progress of my shaming."

* * *

><p>The walk from the hotel down countless roads was silent between them, but surrounded with deafening urban noise. However much Arthur preferred peaceful solitude to such chaos, but this was change he welcomed compared to the oppressive penthouse suit. He couldn't stand to think about the luggage attendants had packed for him or the lube and condoms purposefully stashed away in the bedside table. He didn't want to have to smell the brand new aphrodisiac candles or notice the vast array of wines and painkillers in the kitchen. Just the thought that he was expected to graciously embrace these <em>gestures<em> as compassionate aid in performing his duties infuriated him.

It almost made him miss being bloodied and held down over a table, while another nation shoved a cock up his ass.

Eventually, the time spent in the fresh air outside his glittering prison calmed him enough to slow his pace and walk beside Alfred without trying to get away from him. The air was chilly, but the sun was warm and soon the hands buried in his pockets began to sweat. He took his first glance at Alfred since leaving the lobby and saw that he was as lost in his own thoughts as he'd been. A sliver of guilt cut into him, as he remembered that this truly wasn't Alfred's fault and all his thoughts the night before returned. Though he was the contractually assigned dominant nation, Alfred was just as thrown into this mess as he was; but unlike him, Alfred had never experienced the realities of such loveless marriages before.

Arthur spotted a bench in their path and wordlessly lead his former ward to it for what he hoped might be a good spot to come to terms. Alfred took a seat but kept a respectable distance from him and his hands deep in his pockets. He didn't even try stealing glances in the Brit's direction, and the sliver of guilt in Arthur began to grow.

"I ask your forgiveness for my behavior this morning," he began and folded back in his seat. "You do not deserve the blame for this."

Alfred still wouldn't look at him as he replied, "It's okay. It's not like you don't have a good reason for being pissed."

Their eyes met and Alfred reddened again, "Sorry, I meant angry."

"Though I don't care for anyone but me making obscene use of my language, you're an adult and your words are your own."

It seemed to bring him around a little and Arthur watched as Alfred cautiously began to relax. The effect was reciprocated and after a few minutes the air between them could have passed as companionable. There was quiet a number of people in the park they found themselves in, ranging from young lovers reunited after the war to veterans of the first one enjoying one more autumn afternoon. He and Alfred sitting together on the bench just blended in with the midday populace, and Arthur felt a tentative…but quiet peace in that.

"Oh!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed and startled Arthur by practically leaping off the bench in hot pursuit of something around a line of trees.

He returned a short time later with a bright smile and cone of ice cream in each hand, offering the chocolate one to fellow nation. "I know it's been a year, but you said the last time we met in Belgium how much you missed chocolate," he said and tilted it for Arthur to see. "I know it's a little late, but I hope the sprinkles make up for it."

Arthur beheld the treat in wonderment before slowly accepting it, while Alfred sat down (closer) beside him and happily started on his own vanilla cone.

How curious…that Alfred remember such an insignificant thing.

He noticed Alfred was observing him out of the corner of his eye, and so he took a timid lick of the frozen cream to test it. He found it much to his liking and replied with a thank you before continuing to enjoy his gift.

They stayed like that for a good hour, holding light conversation and polishing off their ice cream. It was the first hour in someone's company that Arthur had honestly enjoyed in a long, long time.

_To be continued..._

* * *

><p><em>Notes from the Author<em>:

The writing rut continues and in trying to work through other writing projects, I managed to finish a small installment for this story and dedicate it to my lady Pie. :') Thank you for everyone's continued patience and support. Happy holidays and happy New Year!

Sincerely,

_G.K.G._


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